Never willingly, but I am not master of that which is mine no more.CreusaMaidens mine, my trusty servants at the loom and web, declare to me how my lord hath fared as touching the question of offspring which brought us hither: for if ye give me good news, ye will cause joy to a mistress who will not prove faithless to her word.ChorusO fortune!Old ServantThis prelude to your speech is unlucky.ChorusWoe is me!Old ServantCan it be that the oracles delivered to my master wound me at all?ChorusEnough! why have aught to do with that which brings down death?CreusaWhat means this piteous strain? wherefore this alarm?ChorusAre we to speak or keep silence? What shall we do?CreusaSpeak; for thou hast somewhat to tell that touches me.ChorusThen speak I will, though twice to die were mine. O mistress mine! never shalt thou hold a babe within thy arms or clasp him to thy breast.

CreusaAh me! would I were dead!Old ServantMy daughter!CreusaO woe is me for my calamity! Mine is a heritage of suffering and woe that poisons life, good friends.Old ServantAh, my child, ’tis death to us!CreusaAh me! ah me! grief drives its weapon through this heart of mine.Old ServantStay thy lamentations.CreusaNay, but sorrow lodges here.Old ServantTill we learn—